School Wars Episode VII: The Demise of Mr P
by QUACK Inc
Summary: In the next episode of School Wars (where characters in Star Wars go to/work in a school), Anakin Skywalker is interested in the school janitor, Mr. P. Slowly, they start a friendship, and Anakin feels like it's helping the janitor get less bitter. It's helping the janitor, all right, but not in the way Skywalker thinks . . . Copyright QUACK Inc 2016.
"Foul, vile, sick, disgusting, and putrid," Mr. P thought, "would all be worthy of describing this intolerable puddle of goo that I must mop up. I hate my job." He shuffled along with his mop, with but one cheerful thought: "I am the janitor today . . . but one day I will take over the school and be principal!"

Such were thoughts of Janitor Palpatine.

Anakin Skywalker found his school janitor exceedingly interesting. How could he not? The way Palpatine (all the kids called him Mr. P) shuffled along day after day, cleaning toilets, mopping the lunchroom (no easy feat), fixing the windows (which for some reason were also breaking, which may have been partially his fault), and chasing "them darned kids" out of the trash compactor. How did he do it? Anakin tried to find out everything he could about the strange Mr. P. Here's what he picked up:

Luke Skywalker swore that Mr. P had tried to sell him drugs. Hmmm.

Han Solo pelted him with spit balls every chance he got.

Jar-Jar Blinks waved a floppy hello to Mr. P every day and flapped his long tongue. He's what you'd call the School Idiot.

So, nothing, really. No information on why he was there, or where he's from. Or why he hated everyone so much.

Anakin intended to change that.

During lunch, when the rest of the cafeteria was having an epic food fight, he found the hapless janitor cleaning the science lab. Anakin put on nose plugs to block out the smell of burned fart, which is how the lab always smelled.

"Hello, Mr. Palpatine!"

Mr. P fixed him with a beady yellow eye. "What do yeh want?"

"Say, can I help you mop up those bantha brains? They look real sticky." Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed a sponge and . . .

Uh-oh. Mr. P was giving him the hairy eyeball. "GET OUT!"

Yeesh. Every time Anakin tried talking to Mr. P, he got the same response.

But one day, he had a brainstorm.

"Mr. Palpatine! Just the chap I'm looking for!"

Mr. P sighed. "What is it now, lad?"

"Well," Anakin began, "there's this girl . . ."

A faraway look came into Mr. P's eyes. "Aaaah . . ."

"Her name is Padme Amidala and she's really, really cool. But I don't think she knows I exist." This, of course, was a bluff. Anakin already had the girl as his girlfriend, but it seems to do the trick.

"So?" Mr. P asked.

"So, I was wondering if you could help me figure out what to say to her."

"Me?"

"Yeah! I bet you've got lots of experience."

"Well, about ladies, you came to the right place . . ."

Over time, Anakin was learning more and more about the enigmatic janitor. He'd come to him with his "problems", and in turn, Mr. P vented about _his_ problems. And Anakin was helping him be less bitter. Suddenly, he had a thought. Maybe Principal Yoda would give him extra credit! He was pretty big on the whole "controlling your feelings" thing. Whistling a happy tune, he went off to find the principal.

But as it happened, Principal Yoda found him.

"What is it, you were whistling, young one?"

Anakin thought for a moment. "I think it was the Imperial March, sir."

Principal Yoda stared, mouth agog. "Come to my office, you must."

"Speaking with the janitor, you were, mm?"

Anakin was taken aback. "How did you know?"

But Principal Yoda wasn't listening. "Bad, this is, very, very bad . . ." he muttered to himself as he stirred some root stew, his nervous habit.

"I'm sorry, sir, was I not supposed to talk to Mr. P?" Anakin asked nervously.

Principal Yoda sighed. He held out a dripping ladle of stew. "Have some."

Anakin eyed the green glop. He'd heard horror stories about this stuff. "Um, I'm allergic?"

The principal gave the stew a slurp. "Palpatine is the janitor for a very good reason, young one." He settled back on his pile of books. "He began as a teacher here. A good man."

Anakin was intrigued. "What happened to him, then, sir?"

"Palpatine hungered for power. He wanted to become the principal. He could not. He became twisted by an unhealthy combination of the dark side of the Force and too much hairspray.

"So, to protect the school and myself, I – "

"—wait a minute," Anakin interrupted, "He wanted to be _principal_? Of the school? Why not . . . I dunno, Supreme Chancellor, while he's at it?"

Principal Yoda shrugged. "I don't know. Weird, he always was. Anyway, make him janitor, I did, so poison minds of my students, he could not. Apparently," he fixed Anakin with a raised, wispy white eyebrow, "still dissuaded from speaking to him, you were. Now get rid of him, I must, before poison any more young minds, he does. That's why whistling the Imperial March, you were."

Anakin shifted uncomfortably. "That's nice, sir. Can I go now?"

Principal Yoda sighed. "Runs in the family, it does."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing. Now, to business. Need your help, I do, young Skywalker."

"Me?"

"Yes. And your droid friends that you keep in the parking lot."

"Artoo and Threepio? How did you know about them?" Droids usually weren't allowed in school after last year's Betty Droid Scandal.

Principal Yoda winked. "My ways, I have."

Morning. Mr. P flew into school in a good mood. He chuckled as he turned up the Imperial March in his rusty old ship.

 _Today is the day I make young Anakin my apprentice,_ he thought, _and he helps me with my plot to become principal! Soon this lovely song will be the school anthem!_ He landed in the parking lot, which was deserted. _Good, good._

He walked into school. And froze in horror.

 _Bad, bad._

Palpatine began to scream.

Anakin, R2D2, C3PO, and Principal Yoda watched through the window. They watched gleefully as Palpatine screamed in horror, surrounded by bantha barf. Lots and lots of bantha barf. Covering the floors, the ceiling, the walls, dripping from lockers, desks, and even the school mascot, Radley the Tauntaun. Mr. P gaped in horror at the impossible, insurmountable mess before him. His scream turned into hysterical, chattering laughter as he slowly went insane.

"Ha!" Anakin crowed, "This is awesome!"

"Glad you think so," Principal Yoda replied, "because cleaning it up, you are."

"WHA—"

"Joking, I am."

Principal Yoda spoke into his comlink. "Hello? Mental Institute? New patient, we have. Pick him up, could you please?"

"Sir, this is your third patient this week," said the voice at the other end, "two more and you're over the limit."

"Fine, fine. Just hurry, please."

The shuttle arrived a few moments later. The janitor was taken away, cackling madly and muttering "Good, good . . .".

And that was the last they saw of Mr. P.


End file.
